by Emma Easter
Chapter Five
Faizan shut his eyes and held the phone tightly to his ear. He sighed loudly, opened his eyes again and said, “Jake, I’ve done everything you said I should do. I got the names of the men planning that terrorist attack in Florida and even the name of their leader. What else do you want from me?”
Jake said, “I need you to stay there for now. We still have a lot to learn from these men.”
“The longer I stay here, the more dangerous it is for me. Soon, the men will begin to suspect I am not who I say I am. One of them has ties to my old terrorist organization. I want to be far away from here before he finds out who I truly am. Besides, I need to go home to my fiancée. Like I told you before, if we don't get married before the end of her ninety days, she will have to leave America.”
“I’m sorry, Faizan, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“I’m sure there’s something you can do.” When Jake said nothing, Faizan said, “Okay, can you at least tell me exactly why you still want me here?” Faizan blinked and then groaned as the phone began to beep. He removed it from his ear and looked at it. Jake had hung up… again. He had a way of hanging up on him all the time. It made Faizan so angry.
His heart twisted as he thought about Zainah. He was as worried about her as he knew she would be about him. He looked around the small room in which he had resided for more than two weeks. It was plain, with just a bed and a small dresser. He was in the middle of nowhere, in the desert, but the familiarity and ease with which he had settled into this role he was playing was discomforting.
He wanted to go back to America, to his church, to his sisters, and, most of all, to Zainah. But he couldn’t. He was stuck here in this life that brought back so many unpleasant memories, amongst violent men who reminded him so much of his old self.
The hardest part was having to pretend to pray with the men. He sat on the prayer mat with them and went through all the rituals that he knew so well, but he whispered the name of Jesus under his breath.
“Lord, please help me. I can’t stay here any longer. I need to go home to Zainah.” He couldn't even call her for fear that he would somehow get her in trouble. He knew how unreasonable that was since it was unlikely the men would trace his call and find her in America. Still, he avoided calling her. She would wonder why he hadn’t called for so long.
He stared at his phone and felt an overwhelming urge to call her. He started to dial her number, and then jumped when someone pounded on his door.
“Faizan!” the voice of Khalid, the leader of the small terrorist group he’d infiltrated, boomed on the other side of the door.
He went and quickly opened the door. In this place where suspicions were rife, you did not delay or hesitate when the leader called for you.
Khalid, bearded with hard eyes and a constant smirk, said to him in Arabic, “I need you to come with me. I’m supposed to meet with someone who only speaks English and I need you to act as my translator.”
Faizan groaned inwardly, but on the outside he smiled. This was not the first time he had acted as a translator for Khalid. It was during both times when he had done so that he had learned about the plan for an attack in America. He had promptly reported back to Jake.
Jake had promised he would be out of this place before the CIA made their move against the terrorist group, but here he was, still in their midst. At any time, he could be discovered and shot.
He followed Khalid out and put away all his complaints and concerns. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand and learn as much as he could. The earlier he did that and passed on his information to Jake, the earlier he could get back to America so he could finally marry Zainah.
He hid a smile of self-mockery as he entered the truck and sat beside Khalid. Hopefully he would make it through today and be alive to marry Zainah.
He silently prayed for protection as they drove away from the headquarters of the terrorist group and held Zainah’s image firmly in his heart, eagerly waiting for the day they would be reunited.
*****
Leila got to the bus station where she would take a bus to Kazi. She looked around in confusion. There were no buses around. She went into the bus terminal and found it was empty. She looked around her and finally saw a petite woman standing at the corner of the station terminal with a huge bowl of assorted fruit. She was probably a trader who had stopped at the station to rest before she continued selling her fruit. Zainah walked up to her and asked why there were no buses around.
The woman looked up from her bowl of fruit and said, “The drivers are striking over the lack of safety on the roads and also for an increase in their wages.”
Leila put her hand on her head as a flood of frustration went through her. She shut her eyes briefly and then opened them again. “Do you know when the strike will end?” she asked the woman.
The woman told her she wasn’t sure. “I don’t think the drivers will end the strike until their wages are increased.”
With a heavy heart, Leila left the bus station and went back to Fatima’s house. She told Fatima what she had discovered at the bus station.
“When will I get to see Malik again?” she asked. “The woman I saw at the bus station said the drivers would not end the strike until they got their salaries increased. Apparently, this strike could go on forever,” Leila said, laughing harshly.
Fatima touched her hand and smiled sympathetically at her. “Don’t worry about it, Leila. You know what the Bible says. All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose.”
Leila sighed sadly. “I thought I would get to see Malik in just a few days’ time.”
Fatima looked up with a thoughtful expression, and then she looked at Leila again. “Leila, are you really sure about this journey you want to take? From what Zainah told me when you both lived here, I think it’s not really safe for you to go to Nira, especially after what you told me happened to both of you there. Maybe this drivers’ strike is God’s way of telling you not to go.”
Leila put her hand on her forehead and said, “Not you too, Fatima! Please, I’ll be careful.”
Fatima settled back on the sofa and shrugged. “Okay, Leila. I’ll pray that the Lord will protect you when you finally go. I just wish you would take some time to think and pray about it.”
That night, Leila tossed and turned in her bed. She thought about taking Fatima’s advice and praying, but she immediately changed her mind. She couldn’t pray and ask the Lord to help her when she was almost certain that she was not in God’s will.
The next day, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, she went back to the bus station to see if the drivers had ended their strike. She found the place still empty.
She groaned and went back to Fatima’s. She went straight to her room and lay on the bed, fighting her depression. She decided she would go to the bus station every day until the strike ended. Then she could make her way to Nira and finally get to see Malik again.
*****
Faizan got up as Khalid came into his room.
“You have to go with me to another meeting to translate the man’s words,” Khalid said to Faizan.
Faizan couldn’t hold back his curiosity and asked, “What is this meeting about?”
Khalid glared at him and then said coldly, “You don’t need to concern yourself with what it’s about. All you need to do is to prepare to be my translator as usual.”
Faizan nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. He followed Khalid outside to the waiting truck. He got into the back of the truck while Khalid sat in front with the driver. Faizan blinked when a dozen other men—Khalid’s men, fully armed with assault rifles, jumped into another truck behind them. He turned and his heart raced. This was definitely not just another meeting where he had to translate. There was something more.
The truck began to move and Faizan looked out at the desert sand as it swirled around them. Memories of his time as the leader of his own terrorist group flooded hi
s mind. He felt ashamed at the rush of excitement and anticipation going through him now. He felt like his old self before a mission. He didn’t want to feel that way. He whispered a silent prayer to the Lord, asking for God’s presence to feel him. Little by little, he began to feel the presence of the Lord surround and fill his heart, until he felt completely inundated with it.
They drove for a long time with Khalid talking in hushed tones to the driver. From time to time, he made and answered calls, speaking in symbolic words so Faizan could barely pick up what he was saying.
Faizan intermittently looked back at the other truck behind them as they drove. The men were still following them. Almost an hour later, they approached a Bedouin tent. Two men, also armed, milled around the tent. They stopped what they were doing when Faizan and Khalid’s truck approached.
All of a sudden, Khalid’s men opened fire on the two men. They tried to fight back, but there were too many of Khalid’s men. The other men were gunned down and Khalid’s men jumped down from the truck and quickly surrounded the tent.
Khalid entered the tent and motioned for Faizan to come in with him. A Caucasian man wearing a turban and two Arab women sat in the tent, huddled together, cowering. Khalid screamed at him. “Where is he?” He looked at Faizan and ordered him to translate.
Faizan did, his heart beating.
The man shook his head, his eyes wild with fear. The women were clutching him, whimpering. “I don’t know where he is,” he said in English.
Khalid laughed humorlessly and then grabbed one of the women. She screamed, and the other screamed too. “If you don’t tell me where Tariq is right now, I’ll start by shooting this one.”
The woman screamed again and tried to escape Khalid’s grasp, but he held on tightly. He looked at Faizan and yelled, “What are you waiting for? Translate!”
Faizan slowly translated while assessing the situation and wondering what he could do. Though he was supposed to be a covert agent and not supposed to interfere, his conscience would not let him stand by and do nothing. Khalid was going to kill these people, whether this man told him what he wanted to know or not. But he didn’t know what he could do. He was just one unarmed man. There were a dozen armed men of Khalid’s outside the tent and Khalid himself was armed.
The man shook his head again. “I don’t know where Tariq is,” he said in a shaky voice. “I am telling the truth.”
“Then this one will die,” Khalid said coldly. He pressed the gun to the woman’s head and Faizan reacted without thinking further about it. He kicked Khalid and felled him to the ground and then he grabbed the gun from his hand and pointed it at him.
Khalid’s face was full of shock at first and then he gave Faizan a wicked grin. “You traitor. You cannot get away with this. You know that. The men are all outside waiting. They will kill you and these people you are trying to protect as soon as you walk out of here.”
Faizan said, “Not if I use you as my hostage to get away.” He told one of the women to get him a rope or something he would use to tie Khalid up. When she got him a twine, he told the man to tie up Khalid while he kept the gun pointed at him.
“Hurry!” he ordered the man in English. Any moment now, one of Khalid’s men would grow suspicious and wonder why he was still in the tent, and would come in to inquire. He would have to have Khalid tied up and on the move before then.
After Khalid’s hands had been tied up behind his back, a cloth stuck in his mouth and then tied with a piece of cloth, Faizan hurled him up. He told the man and the women to follow him slowly from behind. He would use Khalid as a bargaining chip for himself, the man, and the women to get away.
He held Khalid in front of him like a shield and then told the man and women again that they had to follow close behind if they wanted to be safe. They would get into one of the trucks and drive away. He would release Khalid once they were far away from the men. The plan was slightly sketchy, he knew, but it was all he could come up with at this time.
He began to walk out of the tent with Khalid and then turned to speak to the man just before he did. “Remember—” His eyes bulged as a man hit him on the head with a gun. The last thing that went through his mind before he faded away was that he had blown his mission and his cover and now he would probably never see Zainah again.
*****
Leila walked to the bus station, her heart pounding in fear. For the past week, she had been going to the station every single day, hoping the driver’s strike had ended. And every day, she came back to Fatima’s house disheartened and disappointed.
Fatima had suggested leaving off going to the station for about a week, since it seemed that the drivers were determined not to start work until they got every single thing they were agitating for.
“Who knows when that will be,” Fatima said.
Leila approached the bus station and heard loud shouting, yelling, and arguing. She turned a bend, and her heart leapt with joy as she saw the station was filled with drivers, passengers, and hawkers, all talking and arguing and bargaining. She smiled widely. Never had she been so happy at the sight of people quarrelling as she was right now.
“Thank you, Lord,” she said as she lifted her eyes to the sky.
She went to the counter where she and Zainah had bought a bus ticket to Kazi months ago. There was a long line of people standing at the counter. She stood at the back of the line, took a deep breath, and waited for her turn.
Twenty minutes later, she got to the front of the line, and opened her purse to bring out the money she’d saved for this trip. It was money she’d been paid at the women’s camp for the rugs she had woven. She didn’t usually weave a lot of rugs like some of the women there, but she had this time. She knew she had to make money in order to afford the trip to see Malik and so she had woven as many rugs as she could. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it would be enough to take her to Nira, and then back to the camp after she’d seen Malik.
She paid the unsmiling man behind the counter and collected her ticket. Walking out of the bus station building, she went to sit on one of the benches in front of the building. She stared at the people boarding buses some distance away while waiting for all the passengers that were traveling on the same bus as her to pay for their trip so they could finally leave.
“Lord,” she said, “please lead me today. Please help me find Malik when I reach Nira. Cause that no one else from Malik’s family will see me while I search for him.”
Suddenly, fear descended on her. Until now, she hadn’t really thought about how exactly she would accomplish that—finding Malik in Nira without being seen by anyone else from his family. She’d been so consumed with the idea of finding her one true love and being reunited with him that she hadn’t actually thought about what exactly would be involved in finding him.
She took a deep breath and then forcefully pushed the fear threatening to choke her out of her mind. To distract herself, she glanced around the bus station compound. She gazed at passengers boarding buses, hawkers selling snacks and fruits to passengers, and drivers impatiently waiting beside the buses while gnawing on chewing sticks and spitting out gunk.
Half an hour later, she boarded the bus with all the other passengers going to Kazi.
On the long trip to Kazi, she prayed incessantly. She also slept a lot, trying to avoid dwelling too much on her predicament. She knew very well that she was going to Nira like a sheep knowingly walking into a den of wolves. However, she had no choice. She couldn't see herself living without Malik. Even though she’d known him for only a short time, she loved him as though she’d known him all her life.
She prayed quietly. “Lord, I know he’s not a Christian, but I believe he’ll soon be one. I know he loves me and will do anything for me. I’m sure he will become a Christian when I ask him to. Lord, all I ask is that you help me find him, and that you protect me so no one else from his family, or connected to the family, will see me.”
Even though she was still sure she wasn’t in God
’s perfect will, she had no choice but to keep praying and asking for God’s help. She needed His help now more than ever.
When she’d first arrived at Fatima’s house, and Fatima had tried to convince her not to go to Nira to look for Malik, she’d avoided praying. She knew she wasn’t walking in God’s will. But now, all she did was pray.
She stayed awake as they passed through tiny villages and then long stretches of road with no houses or people in sight. She slept after a while, bored with the lack of scenery.
Suddenly, she awoke with a start when she heard someone scream. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw men with flashlights surrounding the bus. It was already nightfall, but the bright lights from the flashlights illuminated the scared faces of her fellow passengers. Leila looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere. If these men decided to harm or even kill them, no one would come to help.
Leila’s muscles tensed in fear as the girl in front of her was dragged out of the bus. The other men were pulling out passengers from the bus and depositing them on the ground.
Leila looked into the eyes of the man who had dragged out the girl in front of her. Brutality was etched on his face and his eyes were dead. He barked at her to get down from the bus immediately. She screamed as he grabbed her and literally threw out of the bus and onto the ground. The woman who had been seated beside her helped lift her up. She sucked in her breath as she sat up. Her back hurt from her fall.
Leila trembled with fear as the armed men with red, blazing eyes surrounded her and the other passengers, their guns pointed at them. She took hold of the woman beside her and they both clung to each other.
“Hand over all your valuables,” the men said, looking at all the passengers.